


Forever Train

by Anonymous



Category: Penguins of Madagascar
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Potentially underage, and a whole lot of it, hope someone likes whatever this is, movieverse, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 15:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20584817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Skipper had never faced a situation he couldn't handle, until Private gets seriously hurt. Left feeling helpless and guilty as he only gets worse, Skipper falls apart. Kowalski just wants to help. Movieverse.





	Forever Train

**Author's Note:**

> This could be best described as some type of character study for Skipper, as there really is no plot other than a lot of angst. I just wanted to take a more serious tone at his character and show what could happen when one of the penguin's is hurt and Skipper can't do anything about it. Written as part of a larger personal project of mine, but edited to be a one-shot so please forgive any confusion.
> 
> Also warning: this does imply non-con abuse; nothing graphic, but it is hinted at and talked about. Also could be potentially seen as underage depending on how you view their ages.

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out._

The overhead lamp swayed with the rocking of the train, casting long shadows in the boxcar long after the sun had set hours ago. The old train rumbled and groaned as the high winds swirled snowflakes in the current blizzard, but there was only one sound Skipper cared about at the moment.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

Private laid curled up in several of the thickest blankets they could find, his fevered body trembling lightly as it wracked with infection and illness. It was the closest they could make for a bed in short notice, not wanting him on the filthy straw or worse, the ground. But despite the team's best efforts (and a lot of help from the rest of the hippie animals Skipper had to admit), the train was dirty, and their supplies and knowledge of medicine was lacking. Their outlook, he loathed to admit, was growing bleak.

The sound of Private breathing, the reminder that after everything he was still alive, was what kept Skipper going when everything else felt like it was failing around him.

_Private's alive. _

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out._

_But he's dying. He's relying entirely on you and that's why he's dying-_

Skipper pushed that awful thought from his head with a frantic shake, the dark memories from less than a week prior creeping into his mind, reminding him of those horrifying few hours when he had thought Private was dead. The longest and worst hours of his life. It was nothing short of a miracle he was still alive, but Skipper would never forget that night for as long as he lived. His nightmares made sure to remind him of that.

“Just keep fighting, soldier,” Skipper said, running a gentle flipper against his forehead, smoothing the ruffled feathers. “And I promise, we'll be here every time you wake up.”

They weren't out of the woods yet, as Skipper faced potentially losing Private yet again (with no miracle this time), unable to do anything but watch as his youngest penguin suffered while fighting for his life. At least this time Skipper was aware of what was going on and could at least _be _there for him_, _as little as it did to help, but wasn't it his own ignorance that got them here in the first place?

It was _Skipper _who had let that penguin on their train, it was _Skipper _who had let him near Private, and it was _Skipper _who had ignored the signs for weeks while the abuse had been happening under his beak.

It was supposed to be his job as leader to keep his team in top shape and prevent this from happening, but what kind of a leader could he call himself when he could be held nearly as equally complicit as the bastard who had laid his flippers on Private?

_Your sweet little Private, so innocent and naive... Oh, you should have seen him, the way he cried for you, begging me to stop... _

_No. Stop it, it's over. _Skipper pressed his flippers to the sides of his head, shaking it to get rid of the flashing images that continued to assault his brain.

Memories of him and his team searching for Private in the dark for hours, hearing that sickening laugh as it taunted them while they desperately searched for the makeshift grave he had thrown him in, pleading for Private to still be alive whist expecting the worst. Watching Rico as he shot the bastard dead, throwing his body in his own pit in one last ironic twist of fate while Kowalski stayed back to care for the boy and keep him safe.

_It's over, it's all over now, get out of my head just stop it get _out_-_

A sudden blast of frigid air caused Skipper to shiver as it finally freed him of the abhorrent images, before he instinctively pulled the threadbare blankets closer around Private. He wished they had stopped long enough to stock up on adequate supplies for the long journey through the Rockies, but at the time Skipper's only thought was to put as much distance between them and this godforsaken state as possible. Just another thing to add to his list of faults.

At least they would be finally crossing the border tonight, by Kowalski's analysis they only had about four more hours to go.

“Sir?”

At the sound of the gruff voice, Skipper turned to see his second in command at the end of the boxcar with a hesitant look on his face, clipboard in hand. The door had only been open for a few seconds, but the drop in temperature was steep as a few flakes blew in. He shuffled himself closer to Private to keep him warm as he nodded at Kowalski to speak.

“I've finished the calibration of the gear assembly,” Kowalski said, subconsciously straightening his back as he gave the report. “The train is in full operations and should cross through the mountains without any trouble.”

Skipper turned his gaze back towards Private, who had curled in on himself tighter in his fitful sleep, and placed his flipper back on his head for comfort. “No chance of getting the train to go any faster, huh.”

“I'm... afraid not, sir,” Kowalski said, placing his clipboard on a crate as he stepped closer towards the two penguins. “With the degree of slope and curvature with these mountains, factored in with this weather, this-”

“I get it, Kowalski,” Skipper interrupted. His voice lacked his usual tone of annoyance when addressing Kowalski's unwanted obvious facts, instead betraying how tired he felt.

Kowalski at least realized it as well, kneeling next to him with a mumbled apology. Skipper shook it off with the wave of his flipper. He knew explaining everything only came natural to the intellectual, but it always seemed to happen when they really didn't need to hear it.

“Is Rico not in?” Kowalski asked, looking around. Normally at this time of night all four of them would be getting ready for sleep or, more recently, taking care of Private. And lately, after everything that had happened, they were more paranoid than ever whenever one of them was not there.

“He was fretting too much, so I had to give him something to do before he drove both of us crazy. He's in the other car making sure our supply of fish will last,” Skipper explained. “We won't pass another lake with a big enough stock for several more days. And with more hippies to feed, I wanted to make sure there was enough for us.”

Pulling out a thermometer from their nearby box of supplies, Kowalski stuck it under Private's tongue, holding his beak closed to keep it in place. “Any change?” he asked.

“Still hasn't woken up since yesterday afternoon. If you can even call _that _waking up,” Skipper said, scooting over slightly to give Kowalski room when he began to use his free flipper to check the bandages, still hovering nearby as he watched. The poor boy had been slurring something about that bastard who had hurt him, obviously delirious from the fever. At least that time he hadn't had a seizure. “How are his injuries looking?”

“Hasn't made much progress healing, but at least the infection doesn't look like's it's spreading too much, and-” Pulling the thermometer out of Private's mouth, Kowalski frowned as he held the glass up to the meager light and inspected it. “Oh, no...”

“What?” Skipper immediately noticed Kowalski's reaction, standing up to get a closer look as his heart thumped painfully in his chest. “What's wrong with it? Don't tell me his fever's gone up even more!”

Hesitating for a moment as if afraid to give an answer, Kowalski finally handed the thermometer to Skipper. The leader didn't miss the way his flipper trembled as it passed over his own. “Afraid so, Skipper. It's gone up over two degrees since this morning,” he explained.

Skipper carefully shifted the glass in his flipper, falling back to the floor in shock as he took it in. The red line was already starting to go down, but not for the reasons he wanted it to. It was almost like it was taunting him, the little number that caused them so much anxiety. He resisted the urge to toss it into the wall and watch it break.

_This whole thing is my fault_.

When Skipper still didn't reply, Kowalski nervously rubbed his beak with his flipper. “I... I've been working on a potential medicine using some of the local herbs I picked up at our last stop. Maurice has some old formulas they used to use back in Madagascar, it might be able to help with his symptoms.”

“That's... That's good.” Skipper's gaze lifted up from the thermometer to settle on his youngest teammate, but paid little attention to what he had said. Kowalski's flipper had replaced his own on Private's forehead, occasionally stroking it to give him some level of comfort.

Ever perceptive, Kowalski tilted his head in concern. “Sir?”

Skipper still didn't respond, his eyes shifting to the black and white feathers scattered across the ground. Private had been dropping them for weeks now, the undue stress forcing his body into an early molt cycle (or- Skipper visibly shuddered- ripped out). His current illness combined with his weight loss from a lack of eating, however, only exasperated the problem; his weakened body was unable to grow new feathers to replace them, thus leaving several bald patches.

_If I wasn't so thickheaded and selfish..._ Then Private wouldn't be suffering, dying while they couldn't do anything but watch...

“I'm such an idiot, Kowalski,” Skipper finally said, hanging his head low in guilt as he dropped the thermometer safely to the ground. It rolled several feet away, finally stopping when it hit a piece of wood flooring that was sticking up.

“An idiot? You're not an idiot, Skipper,” Kowalski said, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“This whole thing is my fault!” Skipper continued, waving away his lieutenant's defense when he opened his beak to protest again. “The whole time, it was right there in front of me, and I didn't even notice what was happening to Private. I welcomed that piece of scum right into our lives, it was _me _who offered him the ride on this train!”

“How would we have known what he was going to do?” Kowalski said quietly.

Skipper took several breaths as he clenched his flippers out of bitter frustration, then shook his head furiously. Kowalski just wasn't _getting _it.

“How could we ha- It was right in front of us the whole time. Right in front of _me_!” Skipper gestured towards himself, scowling in disgust. “Private _cried _when I told him I was considering hiring _him _on as part of the circus.” Skipper refused to even speak of his name. “The whole time I thought it was just because he was acting like a jealous kid who gets upset when he gets a little sibling. I was so stupid, I didn't think!” Skipper raised his voice, nearly yelling as he vented the guilt he had been carrying so heavily on his shoulders for the past several days, that he would carry for the rest of his life.

“Sir, we had no-”

Pointing his flipper towards the penguin in the pile of blankets, he cut Kowalski off yet again. He didn't want to hear his second in command's undeserved defenses of himself. “Damn it I believed a penguin we picked up off the streets and barely knew over our own flesh and feathers. Meanwhile, he was _abusing_ and _raping _him behind our backs the whole time!”

A soft whimper immediately following his bellow caught his attention as Private frowned in his fitful sleep, burrowing his head further into the blankets. He wasn't sure if Private actually understood his words in the haze of his fever, but Skipper lowered his voice out of instinct anyway, mentally cursing himself for raising his voice with him so close.

“A kid, Kowalski...” Skipper whispered. “Private's just a kid, and I let some sick pervert into his life and hurt him. What kind of a leader am I to let that happen?”

Skipper reached out again, laying a gentle flipper over top Private's shivering body as he felt the faint warmth through the blankets.

Kowalski, watching as the leader started to fall apart, placed his own wing on Skipper's shoulder. “You haven't left his side since we found him, Skipper,” he pointed out, nodding to the spot in the blankets where they slept next to Private each night.

“Kowalski...” Skipper suddenly felt tired, a deep exhaustion that caused his bones to ache.

“You're the best leader any penguin can ask for.”

_No, I'm not. It should've been me._


End file.
